Camping Out
by Amy494walker
Summary: Morgan takes Reid camping but the past comes back to haunt him. Mentions of child abuse/flashback. Rated T. MorganxReid Friendship/Pre-slash. Spoilers: Profiler, profiled.


**Title:** Camping Out  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not mine, no profit made.  
><strong>PairingCharacters:** Morgan/Reid Friendship/pre-slash  
><strong>Rating:<strong> FRT  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Mentions of child abuse including a flashback  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Morgan takes Reid camping but the past comes back to haunt him.  
><strong>AN: **I'm really nervous about this because not only if this my first time writing M/R without a prompt (Or not smut :P) but it's also my first time with such a heavy subject. Please be honest in reviews :D Beta'd by the ever so kind chocolatedivinediva

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><p>The fire crackled steadily, warming the two laughing men sitting by it, illuminating them with flickering, orange light. Derek was dishing out heated beans with cut up hot dogs into two bowls, or at least he was trying. Reid was making it a little hard, having him chuckling like this.<p>

"It isn't cliche, it's classic. Camping and beans, it's practically tradition," he said, handing Reid his bowl.

"Well, I admit, I'm not exactly familiar with camping, but I just don't see why we couldn't have brought some sandwiches. Maybe some pasta? I could go up there right now and cook us some stir fried vegetables." His aversion to the dinner selection didn't stop him shovelling a huge spoonful into his mouth. Derek sometimes wondered how the kid managed to stay so skinny with how much he ate.

"It'd ruin the whole illusion man. Have a little imagination." Reid knew exactly what he meant of course. Use his imagination and pretend they weren't situated in Derek's large backyard.

Derek felt rather silly, and hoped the neighbours weren't calling the police, telling them he'd finally lost it, but Reid was unfamiliar with the great outdoors and needed to be ... eased. He'd simply refused to settle for anything wilder than the lawn between Derek's spruces.

"Oh, and your insistence that I cover myself with mosquito spray wasn't enough authenticity for you?" Reid smirked taking another bite.

"Hey, I've seen those little bastards out here okay!" Derek insisted. His serious expression melting into one of amusement when Reid laughed at him. "Come on. Tell me you're not enjoying yourself?"

Reid smiled and shrugged. "I have to admit, this isn't as bad as I thought it'd be." When Derek raised his eyebrows questioningly, he amended, "Okay. It's ... kinda fun."

"Ha!" he exclaimed, inordinately please with getting the genius to admit that, "I knew it."

When Reid smiled back, Derek felt a surge of gratitude. He knew Reid was only doing this because Derek had asked. There were times when Derek was so overwhelmed by how much Reid and their friendship meant to him that he knew he'd never be able to put it into words.

Another thought that came to him was much less pleasant. He was also grateful Reid was here because, while Derek really did enjoy the act of camping, it had been a long time since he'd had the courage to go. He knew he'd never be able to stick it out if Reid wasn't here.

"Morgan? You okay?" Reid said in a concerned tone, drawing Derek from his thoughts.

Shaking his head and forcing an easy smile onto his face, he answered, "Yeah. Fine, why?"

Reid frowned and spoke quietly, "You seemed ... pensive."

There it was, another one of those moments when he knew he could open up to Reid, that he'd be nothing but patient and understanding, and yet he couldn't. He never could.

"Just thinking about how much effort it's gonna be getting you out into the_ real_ wild."

Reid held his gaze, just for a second, but enough for Derek to be certain the other man knew something was wrong. He was relieved however when Spencer instead pursed his lips, nodded his head and said, "A lot."

They both laughed, easily transitioning back into the role of friends. 

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><p><em>"Please? We can do something else." Derek hated pleading, but every single cell in his body was screaming at him that this was wrong.<em>

_"Shh, just stay still. It'll be alright. You know I won't hurt you." Carl's breath was hot against his ear, his body just as heated pressed against his back. Carl had done so much for Derek, gave him a chance to be someone his dad would be proud of, his mom could be proud of, his sisters could look up to and seek comfort or protection from. Carl had made him a man by teaching him responsibility and the depth of his own talent. Most times, Derek told himself that what he asked for in return, for him to just lay there and 'take it like a man' wasn't much to ask. But times like this made Derek sure it was._

_"Someone might hear us," he breathed, knowing it would do no good but taking any shot he could._

_Suddenly the grip on his shoulder grew tighter. It was shaking him. Oh God, he hated it when it was rough. He was being shaken harder and Carl was calling his name. He needed to stop this._

_"Carl, please. Please!"_

The entire world came back into focus as Derek woke, but the hand on his shoulder was still there. Panic suffused his entire system. _'Not again,'_ he thought frantically, as he flipped over quickly and pinned the man beneath him, pressing his thin wrists to the ground by his head. He held his grip tight, knowing Carl would fight him, and sneered down at the man.

"Morgan! It's me. It's Spencer. You're safe, I swear." Derek frowned. That sounded like Reid, it looked like Reid. But it had been Carl. "You were having a nightmare. I promise, you're safe."

With every second Derek was awake, reality became more and more clear until it hit him with stark clarity.

He'd attacked Reid in his sleep, Jesus Christ.

Derek closed his eyes, breathed deeply and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," Reid answered immediately, looking up at him with those huge eyes filled with nothing but warmth. Derek almost wanted to close his eyes again in the face of that. Instead, he repeated his apologies over and over as he pushed himself up and darted out of the tent, practically sprinting up to the house.

He collapsed heavily onto the couch, rested his elbows on his knees and let his head fall into his hands. Scrubbing roughly at the shaven hair, he tried to fight back tears. He'd beaten Carl, he knew he had. He'd become a good man, with a good job, and he'd eventually gotten that bastard thrown in jail where he belonged.

But he also knew that he'd never be free of this. Of knowing what had happened, and flashing back to it every time he tried to do something as simple as fucking camping. The frustration swelled furiously within Derek and he slapped his hands against his head, trying to rid his mind of the memories. He could deal with day to day life, it didn't sit in the forefront of his mind then. Only in these moments of weakness did it all become too much.

He'd sat there on the couch for a good three minutes before he heard someone approach. Even though he knew it was Reid, he still felt a surge of fear in his gut because of the adrenaline from his dream. It made him want to hit himself again but he knew Reid wouldn't want to see that.

He felt his friend settle on the couch next to him, close enough to offer support, but not close enough to trigger him again, Derek noted with bitterness. He hated been treated like a victim.

"Are you okay?" Reid asked, his voice betraying both his uncertainty and his concern.

Derek didn't trust himself to speak so he simply nodded.

There was a heavy silence for a moment before Reid finally broke it. "You can talk to me." There was no admonition in his tone, nor any expectation. Just a reminder he was there. Derek knew he must have called out Carl's name in his sleep, he knew Reid already knew what this was about - there really was no point in lying. He didn't think he could anymore.

He knew he couldn't manage telling the whole story, but for the first time since his arrest in Chicago, he decided to open up to Reid by telling him at least the relevant details. "Carl ... would take me camping." He still had his head buried in his hands, unable to face the man while he shared, "It's hard to say what ... _parts_ of what he did were worst, but I think knowing I was in the middle of nowhere, with no escape if I needed it, was when I felt most, I don't know, vulnerable."

"He was probably counting on that, " Reid said softly, probably hesitant to say anything that could upset him more. "You feeling ... isolated."

"Yeah," Derek answered simply. He'd identified it as a psychological tactic during his first semester studying criminal behavior.

He finally lowered his hands and looked at Reid; the compassion and sadness he saw confirmed that he'd been right to confide in Reid of all people. He smiled as big a smile as he could and lowered his gaze. When he did, he noticed Reid absentmindedly rubbing his right wrist. Guilt burned in his chest. "I'm sorry," he said again, frowning deeply at his own actions.

Following his gaze, Reid quickly placed his hands at his sides and said, "You don't have to apologize. We've all had nightmares that throw us off." He smiled a small but soft smile and Derek found he couldn't resist the ever so slight pull of his own lips.

Derek shrugged. "It's silly to react like that to a dream," he said, thinking back to all the times as a kid he'd jumped awake, soaking with sweat, sure that his home, the only place on earth he was free of that man, was no longer safe.

Reid frowned and instinctually reached out a hand to grasp Derek's. "Don't say that."

Derek however, wasn't listening. His attention was focused on the long fingers currently curled over his own. Reid must have realized what he'd done because he breathed, "Oh, God. Sorry," and moved to pull his hand away.

As fast as a shot, Derek took hold of the retreating hand and pulled it back. When he turned it in his hands, palm up, Reid willingly spread his fingers, holding his hand open. Derek threaded his fingers through Spencer's and joined their hands, gripping tightly.

Derek was almost stunned by how _not_ wrong this felt. By how comforting it was to know there was at least one person, one man, he was comfortable enough around, despite Carl's betrayal, to connect with on any level even when he was at his most vulnerable. That he was still capable of that level of trust. As Reid squeezed a grip almost as tight as Derek's, he allowed himself to take strength from the other man. To acknowledge the contact, a safe and comforting human contact with no hint of the fear, insecurity or sheer _wrongness_ of the past, and allow it remind him of who he was. He was Derek Morgan, FBI agent, and, most importantly, he really had won.

Reid didn't say anything else, just sat and rubbed small circles on the back of his hand with a thumb and for the second time that night, Derek was overwhelmed with gratitude that he had someone like Reid_ - Spencer-_ in his life.

End. 

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><p><em>AN: This was a practice run at writing Morgan/Reid on a more emotional level because I'm planning out a longer story. So please, please be brutally honest. I need to know if there's anything I did wrong, not just with format/spelling/grammer but with story telling or characterization. I would be extremely grateful :D_


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